


Upon a Midnight Clear

by runningondreams



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 1872, Marvel Secret Wars Battleworlds
Genre: Christmas Caroling, Established Relationship, M/M, what passes for fluff in this universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-01 17:15:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17248223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runningondreams/pseuds/runningondreams
Summary: The little town of Timely enjoys a quiet Christmas Eve.





	Upon a Midnight Clear

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cap iron man community](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=cap+iron+man+community).



> For the Cap-Iron Man community gifts prompt: “Little town of Timely enjoys a not-too-often peaceful time of Christmas. The Sheriff and the Blacksmith are no exception.”
> 
> The carols mentioned are “We Three Kings of Orient” by John Henry Hopkins Jr. and “It Came Upon a Midnight Clear” by Edmond Sears.
> 
> * * *

The moon is high in the sky when the last of the carolers retire to their homes. Steve stays by the tree in the town square for a little longer. He eats the little cake Natasha had pressed on him and watches Timely settle a gentle stillness that’s all too rare in these parts. Once the last light has gone out in the last window he starts putting out the tree’s candles as well. It’d be a shame to wake up Christmas morning to the smell of smoke in the air and charred pine resin all over the stone stage. And that’s if he didn’t get woken up earlier, to the sound of running feet and panicked screams as one of the nearby buildings catches fire.

The candles wink like stars in his hands, one after another, until only the moon and the faint, icy glitter of far-away planets shine down on him.

Someone is singing. Faint, but getting louder.

“Myrrh is mine,” sings a man in a smooth, clear voice. “Its bitter perfume, breathes a life of gathering gloom; sorrowing, sighing, bleeding, dying, sealed in the stone-cold tomb.”

Steve knows who it is even before Tony comes into focus, walking towards the square at a measured, steady pace. There are strings of popcorn draped over his shoulders, and he carries an earthenware jug in his swinging left hand.

He grins when he sees Steve, and keeps singing. “Oh, star of wonder, star of night, star with royal beauty bright . . .” 

He stops in front of the tree and tips his hat.

“Sheriff.”

“Stark,” Steve returns.

“Banner gifted me with some of his signature mulled cider.” He holds up the jug. “Care to join me?”

Steve raises a skeptical eyebrow.

“If you’re looking to go carousing, I might as well just lock you in the jail right now. Some people around here actually sleep at night.”

“Some people,” Tony agrees with a nod. “But not me. And not you.” He smiles, slow and sly. “I have candied almonds too, if you’d rather. You know the best way to keep me out of trouble is to keep me company. Stay by my side and we won’t even need the jail.”

Steve has to laugh at that.

“How much have you had already?” he asks.

Tony shrugs. “A little. Enough to keep me warm. You sure you don’t want some?” He slips off his strings of popcorn and drapes them around Steve’s neck like a scarf. “Aren’t you cold out here, Sheriff?” he asks, pressing a finger to Steve’s badge. “Alone in the wind on this night of nights?”

Steve crosses his arms and gives him a warning look.

“Tony . . .”

“Steve.” Tony cocks his head to the side and stands perfectly still, just watching him. Just inches away. His breath clouds white in the chill.

Steve relents.

“Come inside then.” He gestures towards his office. 

Tony smiles. As they fall into step together, Steve can hear him hum, softly, a tune Steve knows well. When he gets to the second verse, Steve joins in, singing low and quiet in the serenity of the night.

“Peace on the earth, goodwill to men . . .” 

He opens his door, and Tony pulls it shut behind them.

“Merry Christmas,” he whispers against Steve’s lips, drawing him close.

The kiss is slow, and warm, and comforting.

“Merry Christmas,” Steve murmurs back. 


End file.
